Sidehacker
AN: THANK YOU GIRAFFECHAN and RAP BEAR FOR YOUR CONTINUED PATRONAGE! New sneak peeks are available now. :D
AN2: Sorry this is shorter, but haven't had time to settle down and write. Not sure I've done this before. Nearly 140 chapters so my brain gets sketchy. If it's a repeat, I apologize and promise next week's will be better!
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Sideswipe didn't remember getting to berth the previous night. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was engaging in a drinking contest with a handful of mini bots. The brew they ingested happened to be the precursory blend Sideswipe distilled with illegally obtained fuel and minerals.
High grade was banned from the base, but as Sideswipe argued, they were adults. Stuck in the middle of a violent, never ending war. With little to no available femmes for interfacing. A mech couldn't go long without fragging or overcharging his circuits, and Sideswipe wasn't going to let mechs spike him to satisfy an urge.
So with no femmes and no super charged fuel, Sideswipe devised a plan.
He stole the necessary components for brewing, used some pilfered rations, hooked into the city's main power grid, performed some minor tweaks, added a pinch of this and a fistful of that, and now he was in possession of grade strong enough to erode his chassis.
And it only took a fraction of the ration to obtain the kick.
Most would think that was something to be proud of and even cultivated. But not the new Second In Command, Prowl. When his predecessor was terminated several solar cycles ago, the newly minted Prime placed an uptight, unemotional, strictly by the book, destroyer of anything fun and entertaining in the position of high command.
Several games had been immediately banned by the SIC as they were deemed too dangerous or demeaning to certain individuals. Mainly, the minibots. High grade had been banned, as was interfacing. The few pleasure bots who had joined with the Autobots were banned from hocking their bodies. Frustrated they weren't to be paid for their services, they fled to the colonies, hoping to keep their business going with lonesome individuals in need of an overload.
Thusly, the base was full of highly irritable mechs with no way to alleviate their natural inclinations.
No femmes. No pleasure bots. No alcohol.
Sideswipe wondered if such conditions led to the recent defection of a couple dozen mechs.
But if his calculations were correct, and when high grade was involved he was as meticulous as a scientist, he could alleviate some of the stresses on base by offering the chance for high grade. The only hurdle to overcome was convincing the 'Killjoy In Command' that high grade was necessary and with the proper brewing, required less fuel to give mechs the kick they desired without depleting their resources.
The formula needed a few alterations, but Sideswipe was happy with his first batch.
He had gotten super charged, his memory a total blank of what happened.
Which meant it was the good stuff.
Only, he didn't know where he was.
He was still on the Autobot base, of that he was for certain. Also, he was sharing a berth with someone. It wasn't his twin because Sideswipe couldn't sense his brother's erratic spark beat.
Judging by the sensory input he was getting, and there was a chance it was still adulterated due to his energon consumption, but he was sharing a berth with someone a lot larger than himself.
Not a triple changer or heavy transport model. There weren't currently any on base.
Sideswipe didn't risk opening his optics. He thought it more fun to guess who his berth partner was. Made discovery so much more entertaining.
Yes, he was weird.
His arm was slung over the midsection, so he carefully drew it toward himself, wonky sensors trying to offer statistics but having difficulty due to static.
Given the breadth of his partner, it was a mech. Also, the EM field was a violent, magnetic pulse, which typically was associated with mechs. Femmes always gave off a soft, subtle pulse, as was their design. A delicate, feminine balance to the brutish male counterpart.
Now, which mech had Sideswipe cuddled up to when drunk?
He had to hold in a giggle. He was quite the snuggler when he was overcharged.
Sideswipe's servo ghosted over the torso, searching for tell tale seams and plating design to give him an idea of who he was sharing a berth with. If it was a standard frame, he may have some difficulty in pinpointing his snuggle-buddy.
For instance, there were a couple dozen Praxians on base, all with nearly identical builds. The only variation came in their coloring, size of their chevron, and doorwing emotions. One could tell a lot by a Praxian by their doorwings.
Sideswipe thought they were the most adorable thing on Cybertron, apart from himself.
But he didn't think he was in the berth with a Praxian, for their doorwings were highly sensitive, which caused them to charge on their sides. This mech was flat on his back.
Hmmm…. Ridged mid-torso. 8 sets to be exact. So, radiator? Grill?
Sideswipe lifted his servo higher, as he wasn't into fondling mechs and wanted to discover his berth partner without initiating a frag. So he avoided the crotchplate area.
Upward he moved, finding… a windshield?
Well, that narrowed it down. In fact, that eliminated two thirds of the base.
Interesting.
Sideswipe glided his finger along the glass, measuring its perimeters and designs. Not rounded. More boxy. Good. That eliminated a quarter of the windshield mechs.
A thin blade rested on the bottom of the glass. A wiper. Oh! A modified transport model! And if he needed wipers, he worked on the upper levels of Cybertron and not the lower, more decrepit areas.
He causally flicked the wiper, making it make a satisfying slapping 'thump' on the glass.
A deep rumbling voice broke the rhythm.
"Not a femme."
Sideswipe instantly froze. Oh slag! He was one dead mech. He knew that voice. Slowly he cracked his optics and tilted his head back to offer a sheepish grin to Optimus Prime.
"Sorry, sir, I must have overindulged last night and thought I was in my own quarters," Sideswipe said, withdrawing his hand and sitting up. "It was an honest mistake. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again."
Prime rose as well, but instead of being angry, he appeared… amused?
"I will let it slip this time and only this time if you answer two very important questions," Prime rumbled.
Sideswipe shivered, fearing the worst. "Yeah?"
"One, where did you get enough high grade to make you that overcharged?" Prime said, expectantly staring at his berth mate.
"I… uhh… brewed it, sir." Sideswipe got up, averting his gaze. There weren't a lot of things to make him blush or embarrassed, but this certainly qualified.
"Brewed it?" Prime asked, swinging his long legs over the edge and observing his subordinate closely. "While we have a ration in effect due to shortage?"
"Well, I.. uhh, figured out…a way to … ummm, brew it with half the ration and ten times the kick," Sideswipe admitted.
He just knew his aft plates were in trouble. The Prime would demand the removal of all high grade, Sideswipe would be tortured to divulge his brewing still and how he collected the ingredients, then he'd be sent to the smelter for sure!
"You can?" Prime asked, genuinely curious.
Sideswipe took the opportunity to plead his case.
"My brother and I used to run one of the most popular breweries in Praxus, so we know how to ferment the chemicals to get the best possible result without depleting reserves. And I'm sorry to say, sir, but we're in the middle of a war. Many of us have pain and regrets and high grade helps us to cope. When the new Second In Command took over, he took away all our coping mechanisms, causing the soldiers to be irritable, surly, and violent toward their own because they have no way to relieve their stress."
Prime rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "I see. And you are sure you can make rations last longer and provide a suitable charge?"
"Absolutely," Sideswipe said proudly, without hesitation. He was a brew master for a reason.
"Well, if that is the case, then I believe a little indulgence, from time to time, would be acceptable. To boost morale," Prime said. "Though I don't condone the enslavement of pleasure bots, I think we can relax the rules to allow battle hardened and scarred mechs a chance to unwind without putting our reserves at risk for depletion."
Sideswipe deflated slightly. "Sir, the mech you chose as Second won't allow it. I've already tried. He's adamant about following the rules."
Prime offered a one sided shrug. "Then I'll make it an official order that once a rotation, high grade will be allowed to be consumed and you are to be given cooperation for its production." Prime held up a servo as Sideswipe's optics got overly bright, like a turbo puppy about to get a surprise. "Within reason. There will be regulations you will have to follow. I don't want our forces too overcharged to become liabilities on the battle field."
"Understood, sir!" Sideswipe crowed, offering a crisp salute. Elated with the news, and eager to begin mass production, Sideswipe added, "What else did you want to know, sir?"
Prime chuckled softly.
"How you managed to break the encryption lock on my quarters to get in here?"
Sideswipe's shoulders drooped.
"Oh, sorry. I don't know. When I get overcharged, my memory core doesn't retain information. I don't recall anything I did or conversations I've had."
"You… don't remember how you broke one of the most complex and secured codes within our ranks?" Prime asked incredulously.
"If it makes you feel better, I can't remember the code, so there's a high probability I won't remember it for a second time."
"There better not be," Prime said flatly.
Sideswipe cleared his vents to break the awkwardness.
"Sorry, Sir. I have a knack for codes. When I get overcharged, I can't resist a keypad. The more complicated it is, the more I become determined to break it."
"And you can't recall how you can perform such complicated feats?" Prime asked.
"No. When I get overcharged, codes make sense to me," Sideswipe gave a feeble chuckle. "I can't explain it. But I've been able to crack even Praxian ciphers in a few astro-seconds."
"Really?" Prime perked up. "Have you considered joining Special Ops? They could use a mech with such talents."
"I can only crack the codes when I'm overcharged," Sideswipe grinned. "Can't do it sober."
"Maybe the next time you get overcharged you can alert Special Ops so they can take you to a Con base?" Prime said, optics glittering. "Though we'll have to assign a mech to monitor you so you don't cuddle with the enemy."
Sideswipe's face burned brighter than his paintjob.
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